


they got snowbound one winter in the winter in the mountains

by WoozleBucket



Category: Sugar Pine 7 RPF
Genre: Horror, M/M, Manipulation, Mentioned Cannibalism, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Suicide Attempt, kinda fucked, shining au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 10:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoozleBucket/pseuds/WoozleBucket
Summary: "I heard the janitor talk about these two lovers that kind of went nuts. The shorter one kind of went crazy. Had to kill their guts in room 217."





	they got snowbound one winter in the winter in the mountains

**Author's Note:**

> Second attempt at horror ever. Loosely based off of _The Shining_. It may be a bit confusing, but that's how it's supposed to be.

When James wakes up, he is standing over his own dead body. And it, surprisingly enough, isn’t all that surprising. What is surprising is that there’s a man sitting on the floor next to it with his head in his knees and his shoulders shaking. Familiar, somehow.

“Uh,” James says. He wants to say something else, but he’s interrupted by the man suddenly tackling him to the floor in a hug, a repeated mantra of _“holy shit,”_ being whispered, almost sobbed. “Who–”

“I’m Steven,” the man interrupts. It’s choked, forced, confused. “I’m Steven and you’re James and we’re dead and…”

Steven trails off with a shuddering breath before just sighing and squeezing James tighter. James feels himself squeezing back, closing his eyes. It’s relaxing, somehow.

So…James is dead. And this Steven guy, he’s dead, too. And James feels guilty for some reason, maybe because apparently the sight of him is enough to make a grown man cry.

“I…we were in love,” Steven mutters, his breath cold on the side of James’ neck. “I think.”

Oh. That will do it.

-

When James wakes up, he is standing over his own dead body. And it, surprisingly enough, isn’t all that surprising. What is surprising is that there’s a man sitting on a couch only a few feet from his body, staring. Familiar, somehow.

“Holy shit,” the man says. His eyes are wide, his head tilted. “James?”

“Uh,” James says. He wants to say something else, but he’s interrupted by the man suddenly tackling him to the floor in a hug, a repeated mantra of _“holy shit”_ being whispered into his ear, unbelieving and confused. “Who–”

“James,” the man says. “It’s Cib, Clay, Cib. You…me? You remember me?”

James doesn’t remember him, maybe. His head is killing him, and everything is a blur. He feels his arms wrap around Cib or Clay and he feels himself squeeze back like it’s muscle memory. “I…no? Should I?”

“Yes! We were supposed to get married, idiot!” Cib answers, loudly. James flinches and Cib relaxes against him. “But we died and now you can’t remember me.”

James feels like he should remember him, feels like he has to, but something’s missing.

-

When James wakes up, Cib is asleep on top of him and Steve is sitting up next to them reading. James hums and pulls an arm out from under him and grabs Steve’s arm.

“Morning,” Steve says. James hums again and goes back to sleep. It’s too early for this.

-

_This hotel isn’t right. It’s making Cib weird. Or maybe that’s always been him, I don’t know, I’m dead, what do I know?_

_James and I were in love. We were going to get married in the spring. We had dogs, and I think that we left them in the city. Cib wanted in and I think we were going to let him. We all died. A killer? I don’t know, that’s just what Cib said._

_I can’t remember much. Maybe I won’t remember writing this._

-

James wakes up on the roof with one foot over the edge. He stumbles backwards and falls into someone’s arms.

“Breathe,” Steven says. So James breathes.

-

James wakes up on the roof with one foot over the edge. He’s pulled back and into someone’s arms.

“Please,” Cib says. “Don’t.”

So James doesn’t.

-

James wakes up with two people pulling on his arms and one foot over the edge of the roof. He’s pulled back and into their arms, shaking.

They don’t say anything, but James turns into Steve’s chest and Cib lays over James’ back. He can smell alcohol and smoke and sex and it’s sickening.

“I love you,” Cib softly says. Steve tenses.

“I know,” James says.

-

_There were cops here. Something about these two people in room 217. Lovers. The shorter one killed the other, cut his head off. Then he apparently bashed his own head in. Gross._

_James keeps complaining about a headache. Cib keeps trying to have ghost sex. I’m tired and I think that I might’ve slept wrong. But I can’t sleep. I’m dead._

_I don’t remember writing in here before, but this is the only blank page left. I’ll need a new book. Maybe my replacement has one, he looks like the type of asshole to leave a good notebook lying around._

-

James pulls Steven down into a kiss, his fingers curling in the soft flannel. They’re in front of the fireplace, people are walking through them, and James feels warm for the first time in…a while. He can’t remember how long he’s been dead, but that doesn’t matter because he’s kissing Steven and Steven is kissing back. James catches a glimpse of Cib over Steven’s shoulder, and then their eyes slip closed.

-

James pulls Cib down into a kiss, his fingers curling in the rough flannel. They’re in front of the fireplace, people are walking through them, and James feels warm for the first time in…a while. He can’t remember how long he’s been dead, but that doesn’t matter because he’s kissing Cib and Cib is kissing back. James catches a glimpse of Steven over Cib’s shoulder, and then James pulls away and runs over to him, smiling. Steven rolls his eyes and puts an arm around James’ shoulders, and James can only hear a groan before his eyes slip closed.

-

James pulls Steve down into a kiss, one hand curling in his shirt and the other firmly grasping Cib’s hand. He feels warm, really warm, and it’s beautiful. They’re sitting in front of the fireplace, just the three of them, the snow piling up outside.

“My turn!” Cib says, pulling James away from Steven and to him, and James eagerly meets him. Steven huffs, but James can hear his smile. The fireplace roars, Cib bites down on James’ lip, and their eyes slip closed.

-

_This is my handwriting, it is and I know it, but I don’t remember writing any of this. Ten notebooks. Ten notebooks. How long has it been? I don’t remember the hotel shutting down, I don’t remember new ghosts and I don’t remember anything other than Cib and James. I can remember 1932, that’s stuck. I can remember getting ready to get married in the spring and I can remember new people coming in and leaving and coming in._

_There are notes in these notebooks. About how much I love James. About how Cib is acting weird, is acting weird, is acting weird. How my body was apparently found headless and James’ head was caved in and Cib’s body wasn’t there and apparently never existed. Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I remember any of this? Because I love James and he still has a headache and Cib is still weird and this hotel is going to shut down and it already did._

_Autumn is another ghost who I apparently knew. She was a ghost. She was in the other notebooks but not this one, and she kept talking about Cib, Cib, Cib, all Cib. I can’t remember her. I can’t remember her but I can remember Cib and James. I can’t remember her warnings, but she apparently gave me some but I apparently didn’t write them down. What was she warning against?_

-

James swings the axe.

-

James swings the axe.

-

Cib bites down.

-

_**CIB**_  
-

The axe digs. James grimaces at the blood on his face.

-

The axe digs. Cib smiles. James grimaces at the blood on their faces.

-

Cib rips. He licks the blood on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> @ohnomypeas is my name, and writing fanfics is my game. Come and visit sometime. Tumblr isn't that scary. Really.


End file.
